


we'll be together (even when you're lost)

by fairytalelights



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Barista Harry, CEO Louis, Explicit Sexual Content, Immortality, M/M, Misunderstandings, Rimming, kind of, very very small mention of past Taylor/Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-06-26 05:47:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15656979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairytalelights/pseuds/fairytalelights
Summary: Louis is confused. Does Harry want to date him? But why? Is he looking for a casual friends-with-benefits arrangement? Does he think they are soulmates?Louis almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous the idea is. Nothing's changed. His body feels the same as it did a hundred years ago. Unchanging, stuck in time. He'd definitely notice if he found his soulmate. Maybe Harry doesn't know it yet, but dating people in the hopes that they turn out to be your soulmate if you just wait long enough, never works out.or, the one where you don't age until you meet your soulmate, Louis has been twenty years old for a long time and just wants to grow old with Harry.





	we'll be together (even when you're lost)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hereforlou](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hereforlou/gifts).



> Wow, I can't believe it's finally time to post this. This has been my baby over the last few months and I'm really happy to let it out into the world now!  
> Thank you to everyone who supported this fic, namely Niki and Jana, thank you so much for reading over this for me, also please listen to [this wonderful playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0bRNSTxMQppydBqgN2yuP8) that Niki made for this fic.  
> Also thank you hereforlou for your wonderful prompts, I hope I did this one justice!
> 
> A few things about the story: If you read the summary, you see why the "Age Difference" tag couldn't be avoided. Louis is obviously much older than Harry here, but I tried to make it as non-twilight-style-creepy as possible and everyone in this universe is used to big age differences, since that's how their soulmate system works. However, if that kind of thing bothers you a lot, it might be best to skip this fic.  
> Also, regarding the "past Harry/Taylor" tag, I can assure you it is just a very teeny tiny mention and was necessary to bring the plot along, you'll see why!  
> Everything about the soulmate-universe should be explained in the fic (if I've done my job right) but if there are any questions feel free to ask on [Tumblr](http://lookslikefairytale.tumblr.com/ask).  
> Now, without further ado, happy reading!

Louis has had a long day already. At first, some intern had destroyed the electric kettle on his floor, which meant he had the choice between running across the entire building or being the asshole boss that made his assistant fetch him tea all day long. Then, a major company decided to go with someone else for the marketing campaign, even though Louis' firm would have been perfect for the job. And now it's technically his lunch break, but his entire desk is still filled to the brim with paperwork.

Louis tries to resist the urge to bury his head in his hands. Maybe building his own company and consequently becoming one of the most successful CEOs in London hadn't been the best choice all those years ago, when he'd tried to find a new way to pass the time until he eventually met his soulmate.

He _would_ go back-packing around the world or “live his life as an adventure” as the new 'soulmate waiting'-commercials liked to proclaim, but he's already explored about every option there possibly was. Being twenty forever sounded like a dream until you actually had to live it.

With one last look at his paperwork he decides that an actual lunch break isn't an option, but he's got ten minutes to get tea and maybe a doughnut from _Brews & Bagels_, the café/coffee shop around the corner.

 

The queue in front of the coffee shop is so long that Louis has to spend several minutes listening to some teenagers in front of him bicker. Most days he thinks he is over the bitterness these past years have caused him – he's tried some podcasts recently to help with a more positive view on life – but right now, standing alone in line to get some tea, he can't help but envy the kids in front of him. Friends are kind of a difficult thing to keep when you don't age.

Sure, Louis would describe himself as an easy-going guy and he's _had_ friends, a lot of them actually, over the years, but they all eventually find their soulmate and leave him behind.

Some stay with him for a decade or two, but no one he has ever met had to wait longer than a century. No one.

Right now Louis' only friend is a guy named Nick Grimshaw who drags him out to clubs once in a while when he feels like Louis isn't getting laid enough. Nick is, like Louis, still twenty and stuck there until he finds his soulmate, but unlike Louis he's enjoying his single life and doesn't show any frustration at not being able to properly settle down yet. Louis hasn't asked, but he doesn't think Nick has been waiting as long as he has.

There is also Niall, but Louis doesn't really know if someone he just sees every ten years when he's “in town” really counts as a friend at this point. The only thing they have going between them is a consistent snapchat-flame, because Niall is intent on keeping up with new technology and not letting Louis turn into a grumpy old man. Louis isn't quite sure that it's working.

 

“Mate, if you're not gonna tell me your order, I'm just gonna tell Harry over there to be creative. Seeing as he can barely make decent drinks when he has a proper recipe in front of him, I'd reconsider that if I were you.” Louis looks up to find the guy behind the counter staring at him expectantly. His face has a startling resemblance to a statue of a Greek god, including his unmoving facial expression. If Louis had to guess, he'd definitely say that guy is also twenty years old.

In his panic to order something, he rambles off his tea order and picks the first baked good in his peripheral vision, a blueberry muffin. He regrets his choice already as he's waiting for his order. He wanted a doughnut. This day can't possibly get any worse.

“Tea and a blueberry muffin?” a voice is yelling through the entire shop, despite the fact that Louis is still standing right there in front of the counter. Exasperated, he turns around to grab his order, when-

An angel. There is a literal angel standing in front of him, curly hair, piercing green eyes and if Louis squints the right way, he can almost see a light from heaven shining down on him. Or the cheap neon lights from the café, same difference. The angel is smiling widely at him, showing off _dimples_ and holding out a few items in Louis' direction. _Right_ , his order.

Louis tries to say _thank you_ , like a normal human being, but he thinks he can't be trusted with speaking right now, so he just nods at “Harry”, as his name-tag tells him, tries to smile in a way that doesn't look like a grimace, grabs his tea and muffin, and bolts.

 

The next day Louis is determined to be a bit less... _overwhelmed_ when he sees Harry. And he definitely plans on seeing him again. As soon as it's time for his lunch break he doesn't even throw a second glance back at his desk full of work, just calls out to his assistant that he'll be back in an hour. Perrie, said assistant, who has to bring him food into his office most days because he refuses to leave it for a single second, just raises her eyebrows at him and waves him off with an, “I'll believe it when I see it.”

 

Today's visit to the café is less of a disaster than last time, but only because Louis actually manages to order a doughnut with his tea this time.

Otherwise, it goes much the same, with the slight difference that Louis can't run away, because like the idiot he is, he planned on _actually_ spending an hour in here. Too late to back out now, if he doesn't want to endure a week of Perrie teasing him.

Harry is still just as pretty as he was yesterday and Louis curses the fact that decades of being stuck in what feels like a never-ending loop of pretty faces and wide smiles didn't prepare him to have a single conversation with a beautiful barista in a café. He's _good_ at flirting. He has no idea what it is about this boy that makes him freeze up and lose all of his charm, but he's determined to overcome it.

In that moment he sees Harry almost dropping the milk he's using to prepare Louis' tea and decides to take his chances.

“Careful there, Curly, I definitely don't want you to spill any hot beverages, especially not on yourself,” he gets out and hopes it has the flirty teasing tone he intended it to have and doesn't sound like he's the rudest customer of all time.

Judging by the faint blush Harry has on his cheeks when he hands Louis his tea, he'd say it worked. “Made it, here's one whole tea, not a drop spilled,” he answers with a cheeky smile and Louis swears he flutters his lashes a bit more than strictly necessary and holds eye-contact for a second too long. He is flirting _back_.

Louis grins a bit, says, “Thank you,” a tiny hint of teasing still in his tone and then turns around to find a table, one with a good view of the counter. For no reason in particular.

 

He opens up his laptop, because he doesn't actually know how to stop being a workaholic and also because he doesn't want to look like the pathetic soulmate-less-guy who sits by himself. Which he _is_ , but that is beside the point. He knows that there's technically nothing about him that immediately gives away that he's not aging or how long it's been, but he also knows that he probably carries himself differently than a normal twenty-year-old would. Also the suit might be a clue, he doubts anyone could mistake him for an intern.

After almost an hour, in which he has managed to steal a lot of glances at Harry preparing an array of beverages, miraculously not spilling any of them on himself, he doesn't think he can prolong his lunch-break for any longer. The meeting he has in an hour could also run without him, but it would definitely raise some eyebrows. Especially Perrie's.

When he brings his used mug and plate back to the counter, Harry looks up at him. “Oh, you're leaving?”

Maybe it's hopeful thinking, but Louis thinks he might sound disappointed.

“I might come back tomorrow, if the tea is always this good,” Louis winks at him as he turns to leave.

“I will personally take care of it!” Harry calls after him. Privately, Louis thinks that the tea could taste like absolute shit; if it kept the faint blush on Harry's cheek, he'd still tell him it was the best thing he's ever tasted.

 

“Hi Harry,” Louis greets him the next morning before work. He knows he's not gonna make it here for lunch today, but for some reason the thought of not seeing Harry after their first bit of conversation yesterday seemed impossible.

“One tea to go, please.” He tries to recall how they managed to have a conversation yesterday but draws a blank.

Thankfully, Harry takes care of it. “Your name please,” he smiles, the picture of innocence.

Louis blinks.

“You know, for the cup. So I don't confuse you with another customer.” Harry produces a sharpie out of nowhere and hovers it over the to-go-cup expectantly.

Louis is 99% sure this coffee shop doesn't write names on the cups, it isn't Starbucks after all.

“Louis,” he answers anyway, still slightly confused, and gets a blinding smile from Harry, his tea, and a, “see you tomorrow!” in return.

If Louis were still actual twenty years old, he would bounce in excitement on the way out. As it is, he just smiles a bit to himself. Harry _definitely_ just used a ploy to find out his name.

 

Despite the, in Louis' opinion, significant progress they have made in two days, he can't seem to move forward from there on.

He apparently hasn't lost the ability to flirt with pretty boys, but he doesn't know what to do now. Does he ask Harry out? Louis doesn't even know if Harry is twenty yet, if he has maybe already found his soulmate or if he's stuck in time just like he is. He doesn't even know if asking him out is what he _wants_ to do. This soulmate business has definitely made dating more messy.

So instead of dealing with it, Louis just keeps coming to the café, starts ordering increasingly bizarre beverages from the menu just to see if Harry is actually able to make them and teases him when he seems to be completely hopeless at it.

Sometimes Harry is behind the register, in which case Louis just takes extra long to look for change and becomes a pro at ignoring annoyed customers behind him.

Without noticing it, visiting the café gradually becomes the highlight of his days.

 

 

Louis doesn't know how he landed himself in a club, since he swore off those things practically the day they were invented, but now that he's here, he might as well try to pull.

Nick, who clearly thinks he's already made a huge success in even getting Louis to leave his house and considers his job for the evening done, has disappeared somewhere and left Louis alone at the bar. Not that he's complaining. Nick's club activities usually involve a lot of dancing with dozens of sweaty strangers and blowing people in toilet stalls, and Louis can't say he's up for either tonight. Finding someone to take home and take his time with on the other hand, might be something he's interested in. Especially if the guy whose backside he's been eyeing for ten minutes now has a pretty face to go with those long legs.

Louis has just ordered his second cocktail – he's not even sure what it is, just that it looked colourful on the menu – when the boy he's been looking at turns around. Louis almost inhales one of the decorative little umbrellas in shock.

It's _Harry_. Cute-barista-that-looks-like-an-angel-Harry. Well, if he's in here, that means that he's at least over eighteen and Louis isn't a pervert for lusting after him. It might also mean he's already stuck at twenty, just like him, but Louis doesn't want to think about soulmate-stuff right now. He just wants to get laid. He also wants Harry.

Downing the rest of his cocktail, he turns to stand up. Maybe it's liquid courage, maybe it's the fact that the atmosphere of the club makes everything seem more surreal than during mornings in the café, but Louis is not gonna waste this opportunity. After all, how big were the chances that, of all people, he'd run into Harry in here.

 _Maybe it's fate_ , a small voice in his head whispers. He wills it to shut up. He's stopped believing in fate a long time ago, at least when it comes to himself. True love is just not in the cards for him. A nice casual one-night-stand with a stunning guy on the other hand...

“Hey, didn't expect to see you here!” he says when he reaches Harry. Maybe not his best pick-up line of all time, but judging by Harry turning towards him with a smile and his eyes brightening when he sees Louis, he doesn't think it matters much.

“Hi,” Harry smiles. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Thought I was coming onto you?” Louis teases. “Shouldn't I buy you a drink?”

Harry laughs, clearly pleased at Louis' direct approach and gestures for the bartender. “You can buy me the next one if you want.”

“What makes you think I'm planning on sticking around that long?” He's already taking a seat on one of the barstools next to Harry before he's even finished his sentence.

“Wishful thinking,” Harry teases back.

Louis takes a second to marvel at the sudden simplicity of their flirting, the thing that always seemed so daunting to him in broad daylight. “So, coffee shop boy by day, party boy by night? Are you a student by any chance?” Louis hopes it's not too obvious he's angling for information, more specifically, Harry's age.

Harry's smile dims a bit at the question. “Oh, um, no, I'm actually working full-time right now. It's kind of a long story.”

Louis gulps. Harry might be working full-time at the café because he's waiting for his soulmate. Maybe he's had other jobs before, maybe this is just a new thing he's trying to pass the time, just like the thousands of mini jobs Louis had before he finally decided to stop wasting his time and started to build his company.

Reminding himself that it's rude to pry information out of literal strangers at a bar in a club, he does the only thing he absolutely knows will dissipate any lingering awkwardness his question might have caused. Who tries to get to know people at clubs anyway? Clearly not talking is the better way to go here.

“Would you like to dance?” he asks Harry, who nods immediately. Louis tries to appear enthusiastic as he leads them to the dance floor. Nick would be proud of him.

 

Dancing with Harry is a mistake. Not because he's bad, no, because he's very, _very_ good, in his own way, by which Louis means that Harry has been shamelessly grinding against him for the last three songs, all while calling it “twerking”. Louis, to his dismay, has seen a lot of people twerk and this is definitely not it.

For a moment he finds himself longing for the stiff ballroom dancing of the 19th century. At least he didn't have to endure pretty boys trying to look like they are riding dick in public back then.

In the interest of not coming in his pants while he's in the middle of a crowded dance floor, Louis gently pulls Harry up so their chests are aligned and tries to turn him around to put some distance between them again.

Harry seems really determined to keep dancing though, or to do whatever it is he calls dancing, so Louis completely blames it on him when he leans forward and whispers, “Love the show you're giving everyone, but would prefer for it to be a bit more private. Come back to mine?” into Harry's ear.

That, at least, gets Harry's attention fairly quickly and he nods eagerly, before pulling Louis insistently towards the exit.

 

When they reach Louis' flat, Harry seems to be a bit stunned by the sheer size of it.

“I know I maybe should have asked this earlier, but what exactly is it that you do for a living?” He squints at Louis, like he's expecting his answer to either be porn producer or mafia boss.

Louis sighs. He knows that his job will give away that he's technically older than twenty and he'd kind of hoped to postpone this conversation indefinitely. Not that it's unusual to be stuck at twenty while waiting for your soulmate. He's just hoping Harry won't ask exactly how long it's been.

“I work at a public relations and marketing management agency that provides cost-effective solutions for a variety of businesses,” he rattles off.

Harry blinks. “And they pay that well?”

Louis winces. “I may have also technically founded the company.”

“Oh,” Harry say. “ _Oh_.” He doesn't look at Louis like he's judging him, he actually looks... impressed.

“So, you're twenty?” he asks. _There it is_.

“Yes, long enough that I've had time to build my own company,” Louis admits.

He expects Harry to dig deeper, find out his exact age, but the next words out of his mouth are, “I'm nineteen and sadly none of my close friends have reached waiting age yet, so forgive me my rude question, but. How much are you actually like a vampire?”

Louis gapes at him, then lets out a startled laugh. Harry grins, pleased at his own joke.

Louis makes an exaggerated shrug gesture. “Not at all I'm afraid. I don't get sick and I don't age. That's basically everything? But now that you mention it, the last time I went out, I did notice my skin being a bit more sparkly than usual...”

Harry's laugh at that is a ridiculous honking sound and Louis knows it should turn him off, but he thinks he might be even more endeared than he already is.

They grin at each other stupidly for a few seconds, before the air between them changes again and Louis can't bear not to kiss him for another second. So he does.

 

“So, do you not even have like, super strength or something?” Harry asks in between breathy moans. Louis lets up from where he was sucking a hickey into Harry's neck to laugh at him.  
“Still not a vampire,” he chuckles. Harry pouts.

Then realization dawns on Louis and he smirks, walking them closer towards the bedroom door, until he has Harry pressed up against it. Judging by the noises Harry makes, he likes it. Probably likes it _a lot,_ considering Louis isn’t really doing anything yet.

“Are you hoping I have super strength because you want to get fucked against a wall, baby? Because that can be arranged anyway, you know.” At least Louis thinks it can. He _can_ lift, but maybe not enough to bet what could be his one chance at having sex with Harry on it.

“Tonight I wanna spread you out, though. On nice, soft bedding, open you up on my fingers until you beg me to fuck you, how does that sound, darling?”  
“Hnngh, Lou, please,” Harry gets out. At this point Louis thinks he could suggest almost anything and Harry would agree. He's rock hard and panting against Louis, also he keeps trying to rub his dick against Louis' thigh, almost like he can't help it.

“Be still, baby, don't wanna come before I get the chance to get my mouth on you, do you?” Louis whispers into his ear. That seems to do the trick, as Harry stills almost immediately and just stares at him with wide eyes, pupils blown. His curls are already messed up, his lips bitten raw and Louis doesn't think he's _ever_ had a sexual partner look that fucked out after only a bit of kissing. It's sending a hot little thrill throughout his whole body, seeing Harry like that.

He planned on blowing him, maybe adding a few fingers, as fucking him seems too intimate for the casual thing this should be. And it _is_ casual, but Harry has laid himself out on the mattress and pulled up his knees just enough that Louis can see his hole, pink and puffy, like he's put himself on display on purpose. He probably has.

Louis could still push his legs down again to properly blow him, but he could also... “Hold your legs up, darling, can you do that for me?” Harry nods, staring at him, like he's waiting for Louis' move, like he wants him to decide how far he wants to take this.

And he _will_ , but first, he kisses Harry. They kissed earlier, hurried and with the clear goal of keeping their mouths occupied until they got their clothes off, but now Louis lets himself get lost in the kiss, the feeling of Harry's soft lips against his own, the way both of their bodies are pressed against each other and every single place they are touching feels like it's catching on fire, prickling and warm, but not burning him.

Louis knows it’s cliché to say, but he can’t help but think about how perfectly they fit together. Their mouths slide against each other like puzzle pieces; every time Louis pushes for more, Harry gives back just as good. When he slows down and turns the kiss gentle and languid, Harry goes completely pliant, giving all of his control to Louis and letting himself be kissed.  
Louis never does this with his one night stands, usually kissing has always been a means to an end for him. He doesn't know why it's different with Harry, only that his lips feel like some kind of magnetic field he can't pull away from.

“Louis,” Harry whines into the kiss and only then Louis remembers that Harry is still folded almost in half under him, in what must be an incredibly uncomfortable position.

“Sorry, love,” he whispers, pecking him on the lips one last time, before he moves down Harry's body. Following his intuition, he presses small kisses to both of Harry's kneecaps, making him let out a giggle under him. If it were anyone else, it might have ruined the mood, but somehow Harry can pull it off as sexy. He moves his mouth to the insides of Harry's thighs, biting and licking his way up until he reaches his crotch area.

For a moment, flicking his gaze between Harry's cock and his hole, he reflects on his previous thoughts about casual sex and intimacy and then, on a whim, licks a long stripe along Harry's rim, almost down to his balls.

Judging by the high keening noise Harry makes and the way he can't keep his hips still, he definitely likes it. Louis has to make sure though. “Baby, do you want me to eat you out, take you apart with just my tongue?”

“Yes, Louis, please, everything, want everything, just, _please._ ” The way he says it, needy and wanting gives Louis a head-rush, the fact that someone as beautiful and _perfect_ as Harry is giving this to him is almost too much for him to handle.

Louis takes Harry's pleas as encouragement to lick into him properly and Harry _loses_ it. Louis likes to be eaten out as well, but he doesn't think he's ever enjoyed it as much as Harry seems to in this moment. Maybe his previous partners just did it wrong. For a moment he loses himself in the fantasy of what would it be like to be eaten out by _Harry_ , but then he shakes it off, because this is a one time thing and for tonight he has other plans.

Louis doesn't know how long he spends on just licking and fucking his tongue into Harry, but he doesn't think he'd ever grow tired of it, the overwhelmed noises Harry makes and how he seems to have lost the ability to say anything but _please Louis_ and _more_.

Harry seems to reach the end of his rope when Louis adds two fingers, because he just moans, “Louis, please, I can't, it's too much,” and then Louis twists them and softly says, “Go ahead,” and Harry comes, just like that.

His orgasm seems to go on forever and Louis keeps on praising Harry through it, stuff like, “Took everything so well baby, you did so good.” He doesn't know where it comes from, but he knows he's not usually this soft with one night stands. Harry's just special, somehow.

Afterwards, Harry's eyes look glassy and he doesn't look like he'll be able to move anytime soon, so Louis jerks himself off with quick motions. Harry's eyes are fixed on his hand and when Louis is close, Harry lets out a whine and tries to shuffle closer towards him.

After a few seconds, Louis gets what he's trying to do and stares at him in awe. “Want me to come on your face, darling?” he asks and Harry nods eagerly.

When Louis finally lets go, his orgasm hits him like a train crash, more intense than it should be, considering he just came from his own hand. The difference to usual jerking off by himself and _this_ becomes abundantly clear though when Harry opens his mouth to catch some of his come on his tongue, then licks it off the areas of his face he can reach.

Louis' cock gives a weak twitch at that, as if trying to get hard again, but exhaustion wins over.

He can't help but kiss Harry again, tasting his own come on his lips, mingling with the taste that's still distinctively _Harry_.

“Thank you, Lou,” Harry mumbles, already sounding like he's half asleep and Louis whispers stuff back he'd normally keep to himself after a one-night-stand, things like, “So pretty, so beautiful, most beautiful boy I've ever seen, did so good.”

Neither of them seems willing to move, so Louis just gets some tissues from his bedside table and they both decide to postpone showering until tomorrow.

The last thing Louis remembers before falling asleep, is Harry cuddling up to his side and Louis pulling him close without even thinking about it.

 

Louis is alone when he wakes up the next morning. This is exactly what he wanted to happen, so he doesn't know why he feels a sharp stab of disappointment right below his ribcage.

A few seconds later though, he notices a low humming sound outside his half open bedroom door.

He throws on boxer shorts to investigate and there, in his kitchen, wearing only his ridiculous tight jeans from yesterday and no shirt, is Harry, apparently cooking breakfast. At least he seems freshly showered, judging by his wet hair and clean face.

Louis just stands there, confused, blinking a few times in rapid succession to make sure he's actually awake.

“Why did you squeeze into those trousers again, but couldn't be bothered to put on a shirt?” is what he ends up blurting out instead of _good morning_ , like a normal person. Apparently he's only able to talk to Harry without making a fool of himself while slightly inebriated or during sex.

Harry doesn't seem to mind though, because instead of answering Louis, he just grins at him and then kisses him quickly, before he goes back to making pancakes. Louis didn't even know he had stuff for pancakes in his fridge. He also doesn't know what to make of this whole situation.

That wasn't a 'we're gonna have sex again later'-kiss. That was a cute domestic couple's good morning-kiss.

Also, Harry is still _here_. He didn't sneak out, he didn't leave a polite note, and he doesn't seem in a hurry to leave right now.

Instead, he is here, in Louis' kitchen. Making pancakes. Louis tries to figure out how he feels about that, but the only conclusion he comes to is that he doesn't necessarily _want_ Harry to leave, so he just sits down and lets Harry hand him a plate. Also, those pancakes smell delicious, he's certainly not gonna say no to someone making him breakfast.

Louis dreads having to do awkward small-talk now, when they got along so well the night before, but nonetheless, he asks, “So, why do you work in a café?” He cringes at his own question as soon as it's out, but Harry doesn't seem disturbed.

“Oh, I actually wanted to work in the bakery part of the café, but they were only searching for baristas when I started working there, so I'm doing that for now. I kind of want to...” he trails off. “You know what, it's silly, I don't want to bore you.”

Despite his distaste for small-talk, Louis doesn't think anything Harry could say would ever bore him. “No, tell me,” he says, grabbing another pancake. Harry put chocolate chips into them. Louis doesn't even know where he _found_ chocolate chips in his flat.

“I kind of want to own a bakery someday. So after closing, I sometimes talk my boss into teaching me a few things, but I know it's not the same as actually learning how to bake. I'm saving up to afford going to a proper cooking school, specialize in pastry, you know.” He starts going quieter towards the end and blushes and Louis has the sudden urge to strangle every single person who ever made Harry feel bad about his dreams.

“I think that's lovely. I know you can do it.” Louis may not have known Harry for long, but he believes in his words with a certainty that surprises himself. He almost grabs Harry's hand to squeeze it in support before he reminds himself that this is his _one-night-stand_ and that he's already crossing a line by just having breakfast with him.

They sit and eat in comfortable silence for a bit until Harry jumps up suddenly, yells, “I need to be at the café in like, half an hour,” and proceeds to run around the flat in search of various things for minutes. Louis has to admit, it's all rather hilarious, at least until Harry scribbles down something on a note, says, “I'd really like to see the new Avengers movie. Twice, if I have to, so,” and then trails off.

Louis, too perplexed to say anything, can only stare as Harry sprints towards the door, does a full-on body turn to run back towards Louis, pecks him on the mouth, and then he's gone.

Louis is still sitting at the table, a half-eaten chocolate chip pancake in front of him and staring at the small post-it note with Harry's number and a smiley face written on it. He has no idea what just happened.

 

An hour later he still can't quite make sense of it. Specifically of the smiley after the phone number. It's not even a winky face, which would make sense if Harry was looking for a long-term booty-call.

Louis is confused. Does Harry want to date him? But why? Is he looking for a casual friends-with-benefits arrangement? Does he think they are soulmates?

Louis almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous the idea is. Nothing's changed. His body feels the same as it did a hundred years ago. Unchanging, stuck in time. He'd definitely notice if he found his soulmate. Maybe Harry doesn't know it yet, but dating people in the hopes that they turn out to be your soulmate if you just wait long enough, _never_ works out. Louis would know, he's tried more times than he can count, back when he was still stupid and naïve and full of hope.

For a second he regrets letting Harry come home with him, getting his hopes up, but then he reminds himself that he never promised anything and it's Harry's own fault for expecting a one-night-stand to call him back.

He still can't bring himself to throw Harry's number away though, so he just leaves it in a drawer and hopes that it'll disappear if he just ignores for long enough.

 

“ _Haven't found your soulmate yet? What better way to pass the time than on one of our soulmate cruises? Who knows, maybe you'll even find your soulmate there! One percent off for every year you've been waiting now!_ ”

Louis has to resist the urge to throw something at his TV. He could get all of these soulmate attractions for free, but he figures the companies offering the sales have not included special cases like him in their calculations.

He turns the TV off, deciding that absolutely no one should know as much as he does about the Kardashians by now, having spent his entire weekend binge-watching every single episode he had saved on his DVR. He draws a certain kind of comfort from the fact that even stupidly rich reality TV stars are still obsessed with finding their soulmate.

He knows that he needs to get out at some point, but his only trips lately have been to the café he can literally never return to. Although he did find himself missing their doughnuts last week, when he avoided them like the plague. And their tea. And their Harry.

Louis resists the urge to bury his face in his sofa cushions and hide, like he did the entire time since he last saw Harry.

He decides he can't go on like this. Maybe he misinterpreted the entire thing, Harry was just polite and wanted to stay friends. He couldn't possibly have wanted to date him, Louis _did_ mention that he was like, way past what would be considered appropriate dating age for anyone. Or at least, he hinted at it. Very strongly. He remembers vampire jokes being involved.

Louis turns the TV back on and loads up the next episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians. Tomorrow, he'll stop being rude and stop avoiding Harry because of his idiotic issues. He could use some friends. Even stupidly attractive friends he has slept with and which a tiny part of him maybe wishes were actually his soulmate. But that's a minor issue.

 

It's a major issue, Louis realizes as he's standing in front of the register at _Brews & Bagels_. Harry is, of course, still stupidly attractive as he's clumsily preparing drinks behind the counter, cursing every time he spills something hot on himself, which is nearly constantly.

Making things even worse and almost causing Louis to turn on his heels, is the fact that Harry's wearing a bright pink party hat. It says “Birthday Boy” and “20” on it and it's blinking obnoxiously. Louis stares at him. He's not being subtle but he thinks the blinking party hat is a good excuse. He's not sure if he wants to have this talk on, what appears to be, Harry's _twentieth birthday_.

Harry's colleague sends a wary glance in Louis' direction but apparently decides to keep out of it and goes to take a break just as it's Louis' turn to order.

Harry takes his place behind the counter and starts to say, slightly out of breath, “Hello, what can I get for-” when he seems to notice who's standing in front of him. He closes his mouth again without finishing his sentence, and just stares at Louis.

“Hi, I'm sorry I haven't called. I just got really busy.” Louis winces at his own weak excuse. “Umm, happy birthday,” he adds.

For a moment a variety of emotions flicker over Harry's face, before he apparently decides to settle on _slightly wary_.

“That's okay, I understand. What can I get you?”

“Oh,” Louis answers. That was easier than he thought it would be. “A cuppa. Yorkshire,” he adds unnecessarily.

Harry starts to prepare his drink silently. Louis wishes he would just _say_ something. Angry screaming he could take. This is torture.

Harry is already handing him his drink and adding up his total, when Louis can't take it anymore. Yes, they had a one-night-stand and he hasn't called, which was a shitty thing to do, but he didn't want to lead Harry on and Harry has to _realize_ he doesn't want to date someone like Louis. Louis is the worst boyfriend material in the world.

“Come to the pub with me tonight? I'll buy you a drink or two, because it's your birthday. Or tomorrow, you probably already have plans on your actual birthday,” Louis blurts out. Harry looks at him, a mix between angry, confused and a tiny bit _hopeful_.

“As friends,” Louis clarifies really quickly.

“Friends?” Harry echoes.

“Yes,” Louis says desperately. “Look, obviously this is awkward, because, _you know_ , but maybe we'd have a good time? And you could find your soulmate there? I heard lots of people find their soulmate right on their twentieth birthday, kiss them and then they age normally like nothing happened.”

“Oh,” Harry breathes, “you want me to find my... _oh_.” His face looks crestfallen.

Louis winces. He knows that he just friend-zoned Harry in the most awkward way possible but he can't imagine not having Harry in his life at all, now that he got a taste of what it would be like.

Watching Harry find his soulmate one day would be hard, but by then Louis'd be over this stupid crush he seems to have developed after just one night of – arguably amazing – sex.

“But I thought-” Harry continues in a small voice, then changes his entire posture, pushing his shoulders back and standing a bit taller. It looks like a mask slipping into place.

“That’s 2,49£ then.”

“What?” Louis is getting whiplash from these mood changes.

“Your tea. Your total is 2,49£.”

“Oh,” Louis says, realizing he's just been rejected, seeing as Harry never said yes to going to the bar with him. He guesses it's just fair, it's really rude to sleep with someone and then try to be friends.

But there is nothing that Louis can do about that, he _can't_ offer Harry a happy-end, as much as he wishes he could. He quietly hands the money over, trying to avoid eye-contact.

“I'll see you tomorrow then?” he can't help but add as he turns to go.

“I'll be here,” Harry answers. He doesn't sound happy about it.

 

“Where did your good mood from last week go?” Perrie complains when Louis snaps at her for the fifth time that day. Louis doesn't answer and just shoots her a look that would've scared off any other assistant.

For a moment he thinks it actually worked, because she leaves the room, but then she just comes back a minute later, carrying an iPad. On the screen, she has opened up a FaceTime call to _Niall Horan_. Louis sighs. Looks like Perrie is bringing in backup.

“Louis!” Niall answers the call, chipper as ever. He looks tanned, as always and his background looks sunny and tropical, also as always. Louis also notices, with a hint of relief, that he hasn't aged a day since he last saw him five years ago.

“Hey Niall,” he says, a bit wearily. Perrie throws him a wink and then leaves his office. What does she expect, for him to just spill all of his problems to Niall like that? It's not like Niall could even help him.

“So, what are you doing these days, still running that company in London? Is it doing good?”

“Yeah,” Louis smiles. “Still very good. How about you Nialler, finally wanna tell me how you _still_ manage to afford your never-ending vacation in Florida after all these years?”

Niall chuckles. “Nah, I'll save that for whenever you decide to join me. But I reckon that's not why you called, is it?” He actually looks concerned, as far as Louis can make out his face over the pixelated screen.

“No,” Louis admits. “Perrie made me call because she thinks I'm grumpy and need your advice, which _I don't_ ,” he shouts pointedly in direction of the closed door.

“This is about a guy, isn't it,” Niall asks.

Louis splutters. “Why does it have to be about a guy?”

“One, because you've really had your chance for bisexual experiences in the last 150 years and I still can't remember seeing you with a lady once, and second, because I know you and that's all you worry about 24/7, Louis. You really haven't perfected the whole YOLO attitude yet.”

Louis is fairly certain that Niall has no idea what “YOLO” means and is slightly horrified at him using expressions such as “24/7”. Also, Niall keeps combining “youth slang”, as he calls it, with old expressions, like calling women “lady”. Louis sometimes imagines what Niall's soulmate would look like, but he has a difficult time imagining him with anyone born in the twenty-first century.

“Okay, you're right. I slept with a guy, his name is Harry, really liked him, think he liked me too, now the best choice would be to never see him again, but I don't think I could bear that, so I'm trying for us to be friends. I think he kind of wants us to date though, so he hates me right now. What do I do?”

Niall blinks at him. “Okay, I know this sounds radical, but hear me out, man, why don't you just... date him?”

Louis scoffs. “Niall, you know I can't do that.”

“And why not?”

This is such a ludicrous question that Louis doesn't know what to say for a few seconds. When he does, he speaks really slowly, in case the connection is bad and Niall can't understand him.

“He's _aging_ , Niall. I'm not.”

“Your life is actually turning into Twilight. Tell me, Louis, did you only take Harry home because his blood smelled appealing to you?” Niall grins at him.

“One, please stop making vampire jokes, I think we established that as a ground rule after the Peru incident of 1971. Second, how does it even apply here?”

“Easy,” Niall says, sounding like he's trying very hard not to laugh and at the same time to explain something simple to a small child. “You are _not_ a vampire, Louis.”

“I noticed,” Louis says drily.

“Unlike a vampire, you _are_ actually able to age. You just have to kiss your soulmate and wait, maybe you'll start aging.”

“Thank you, I'm familiar with the mechanics.”

“Then just _date_ Harry. See if he's your soulmate,” Niall insists.

“He's not,” Louis argues. “I would notice. I would have noticed by now, _nothing_ has changed. There was no magical light that appeared when we kissed, nothing.” Except for the fact that Louis has never felt more at home than at the moment he kissed Harry. But that doesn't count as soulmate magic so he definitely isn't telling Niall about it.

“Look,” Niall starts. “Why don't we try it this way: So, first, I'm your soulmate guru.”

“You are definitely _not_ my soulmate guru. Whatever that's supposed to be,” Louis scoffs.

“Don't you know the side-kick in movies who helps the idiot main character figure out his place in life and falls in love with the main character's quirky best friend? Look, did you ever watch Notting Hill?”

Louis just stares at him blankly.

“Okay, how about 17 Again? Come on, I know you're into Zac Efron.” Niall actually looks offended at Louis' lack of pop culture knowledge.

“Well, yeah, but not enough to actually remember the plot of his films?”

Niall sighs. “Let's get back to the important part. Does Harry have a quirky best friend that's his own soulmate guru?”

“Niall, I literally know next to nothing about him except for the fact that he works at _Brews & Bagels_, looks like an angel, turned twenty yesterday and shagging him was really nice, like _really_ -”

“Okay, that's enough of that. But thank you for demonstrating what part one of mission 'get Louis his soulmate' should be.”

“He's definitely not my soulmate.”

“The first step is you getting to know him,” Niall continues as if Louis hadn't said anything. And then, softer, “Louis, I know you've had some bad experiences but you can't let them hold you back. Promise me you'll at least _consider_ the possibility that your soulmate is out there and that maybe this Harry could be it.”

“Okay,” Louis says with no real emotion behind it. “I'll consider it.”

Niall squints at him, as if he knows he's lying, then, after he makes Louis mimic a pinky promise over FaceTime, he ends the call.

Louis stares at the black screen for a moment. He doesn't know if this call helped his mood or worsened it, but he figures, even if he can't really keep his promise to Niall because Harry is _not_ his soulmate, he owes it to himself to at least try and talk to Harry again.

 

The next day doesn't quite go as planned, even though Louis had written himself a handy list on what he was planning to do.

 

  1. _apologize to Harry and try to explain to him that it's not him, it's you_

  2. _don't use that exact wording_

  3. _no matter how rude he is (he has a right to be!) don't order your tea to go, just sit down_

  4. _stare at him pathetically every time he looks over and try to look sorry_

  5. _if it doesn't work, repeat, but maybe wait a week 'cause you seem like a stalker (even though that's unreasonable because his café is right across the street and literally the most convenient, also their doughnuts are great)_




 

Harry has apparently decided that Louis' plan is shit, because as soon as he walks into _Brews & Bagels_, he starts to talk to him.

“I'm sorry about yesterday,” Harry rushes out with wide eyes. Louis blinks. Apologizing was on _his_ to-do-list.

“It's absolutely fine if you don't want to date me and I don't want to make future visits to the coffee shop awkward and Liam says I should stop scaring away customers or he won't let me work the morning shift anymore and make me go back to evenings, because there are less people around. Anyway, I'm sorry, what can I get for you?”

“You have a habit of scaring away customers?” Louis grins, and, just as he expected, Harry blushes ( _very_ prettily). Louis mentally adds _don't flirt with him you idiot this is what got you into this mess in the first place_ to his to-do-list.

“I can be a bit... over-enthusiastic,” Harry mumbles and Louis immediately feels like shit for ever making him feel bad for that.

“No,” he rushes out. “You're fine. It's me. I'm just. Not that great with... stuff.” This has to be one of the most nonsensical things he ever said. Panicking, he doesn't wait for Harry's answer and just says, “A tea to-go please?” There goes point three on his list.

“Okay, sure,” Harry says, seeming confused. “But... We're good, right?”

“Yeah,” Louis breathes. “We're good.”

 

Perrie seems to have caught on to the fact that Louis is regularly going out for his lunch-break now and Louis thinks she highly suspects the reason is a pretty boy. She might have listened to his phone call with Niall last week after all. There is no other explanation as to why she almost keeps pushing him out the door every day, unless she's throwing wild parties in his office all the time. Parties so wild, they only last an hour.

Unfortunately, this means that Louis practically has no other choice than to keep returning to the café.

His visits at least get less awkward, mostly because neither Harry or Louis initiate anything other than polite conversation, such as, “Enjoy your tea,” and “The tea was really good today, shall I just put my empty mug here, or...?” It's frustrating, but Louis doesn't know how to get past it.

 

Two weeks after they started talking again, Harry seems to have enough. He wanders over to Louis' table, where he sits with his laptop turned towards the wall so no one can see he's actually just playing solitaire on there.

“So...” Harry starts, almost as if he's picking up the thread of a conversation Louis doesn't remember they started.

“What's your favourite colour?”

“I'm sorry, what?” Louis asks, gaping at him. Out of all the ways he imagined them moving on from their three-word-conversations, this was not one of them.

“Your favourite colour,” Harry repeats, frowning a bit, seeming actually worried Louis just didn't understand the question.

“I don't know, green I suppose,” Louis names the first colour that pops into his head.

“Oh,” Harry deflates.

“Oh?” Louis echoes.

“Nothing. I just read something about... You know what, it's not that important, carry on with your tea, didn't want to bother you, sorry!” Harry calls, already about to retreat back behind the counter.

Louis blinks a few times. Okay, then.

 

As if that wasn't strange enough, over the next few days, Harry keeps coming over to his table to talk to him.

Mostly he starts with more silly questions about Louis, like his favourite TV shows or music taste.

The answers never seem to quite satisfy him and at Louis saying Grease is his favourite movie he actually yells out loud, “Are you _sure_ it is not Love Actually?”

Louis laughs. “Pretty sure, although I'd let you convince me otherwise.”

They both stare at each other in shock after the words are out. Louis, because he can't quite believe he actually said them, Harry, because this is probably the first time Louis showed any initiative to spend time with him whatsoever after their one-night-stand.

“You know, because we're mates now, right?” Louis adds. They are not even _close_ to anything that could possibly be considered a friendship, but Louis desperately doesn't want to make this awkward.

“Yeah,” Harry answers, looking a bit dazed. “Yeah, you can, um, come over? And I could cook for you? I mean, my flat probably isn't as fancy as yours, but...” He trails off, probably realizing that he almost broke the unspoken rule of not talking about their sexual history.

“I'd love to,” Louis says sincerely. Even though he specified the friends-thing multiple times, he can't help but feel like he just agreed to a date.

 

Louis would describe his evening with Harry as not a complete disaster, which is, in his opinion, a step up from a lot of their previous encounters.

For one, Harry is a fantastic cook, definitely made for cooking school, as Louis assures him multiple times over the span of the evening.

Also, there is almost no lingering awkward tension, the way they clicked at the club translates almost seamlessly to how they act around each other now, teasing banter and a lot of laughter.

Louis catches himself almost getting flirty once or twice but he reigns that in as soon as he catches his voice going a bit too playful towards the end of his sentences.

They've kept the conversation fairly light until now, but after they've eaten and Harry starts up the first Avengers movie, Harry seems to decide it's time to delve into some heavier topics.

“So, why don't you want to find your soulmate?” he asks, as if that is a perfectly normal question to ask someone the first time you actually hang out. (Louis refuses to count the actual first time, and is working, very hard, to erase that whole night from his memory. So far he hasn't had much luck, especially when he's wanking.)

He splutters. “I never said that.”

Harry just throws him a look. “Please. Maybe not explicitly in that many words, but you basically conveyed it during every single conversation we've had so far.”

Louis feels the blood rush to his face in embarrassment. He didn't think he was that obvious.

“Why find a soulmate when I can get a sale on every soulmate-attraction out there? Fancy going on a cruise anytime soon?” he deflects.

Harry laughs at his joke, but Louis can see he's disappointed at his cop-out.

 

Later that evening, towards the end of _Age of Ultron_ , Louis decides to give Harry a real answer after all. Something about the way he's just let Louis be and not pressured him into anything makes him want to trust him.

He picks up the conversation right where they left off, but he just knows Harry will immediately get what he's talking about. It seems like he always knows exactly what Louis is thinking, completing his thoughts like no one else he has ever met.

“Sometimes I don’t think I deserve one, you know.” Louis whispers it, as if that would make the admission less vulnerable.

Harry looks like he's either gonna hug Louis or about to get teary, so he hastily continues.

“I know there are stories of like, serial killers having soulmates, but maybe their partners are also really evil and then they have at least something to talk about. But maybe I'm just mediocre in the worst way, not an interesting quality about me that would make anyone love me.”

He's afraid to look up at Harry for a moment, but then he hears a snort. Incredulously, he stares at him.

“Sorry,” Harry giggles. “You said serial killer soulmates can at least talk about being evil all day and then you expect me to stay serious, how was I supposed to do that?”

After a few seconds, Louis starts laughing as well. When he looks at Harry again, he doesn't think the laugh actually reaches his eyes, but Louis is glad that he's pretending for him.

It's like Harry can sense how much those few sentences had cost Louis and knows that it's better to leave it at that. Louis tries very hard to ignore the warmth he feels in his stomach at that thought but he's not sure he completely succeeds.

 

After the second _Avengers_ movie, Harry convinces him to stay for _Wonder Woman_ , in his opinion the only good thing D.C. ever produced, and it's only when they both almost fall asleep during the first hour that they decide to call it a night. Louis has to admit to himself that it's the most fun he's had in a really long time, maybe excluding the night they actually slept with each other.

Before he leaves, he gives Harry a one-armed hug and then says, “See, there is no reason why you can't be civil to one another after you've had sex. Worked out well for us, didn't it? No problems at all.”

“Yeah,” Harry says in an unreadable tone and gives him a small smile. “None at all.”

 

 

In the next few weeks, Louis sees Harry way more often than he would any other casual friends, but most of them are long dead, so he thinks he can be excused.

It's just convenient for Harry to work at the café right across the street from Louis. It's also convenient that Louis has started to take his lunch an hour earlier than most of the other business people from his building, so _Brews & Bagels_ is sometimes blessedly empty and Harry can get away with joining Louis at his table for a little while.

Mostly, they chat about mindless stuff, like music taste and films. Harry seems to be endlessly fascinated with the way Louis saw the world change around him and had to adapt to his ever changing environment, asking questions ranking from, “What was World War II like,” to “Were the Beatles really as cute in real life as everyone said they were?”

Through all of that, he has a way of making Louis feel really _listened to._ Harry never makes him feel like he's just asking these questions to satisfy his own curiosity about history, no, he seems to actually care about _Louis_ , how all of that made _him_ feel and what music period was _his_ favourite and how had 90's fashion changed _his_ life.

Louis can't help but feel a little overwhelmed by it, in a good way. He's not used to someone genuinely caring about him with that much sincerity and he finds himself wanting to learn every little thing about Harry in return.

Everything about Harry is, as he suspected, _lovely_. He grew up in Holmes Chapel, near Cheshire, has a mum and an older sister whom he adores, wants to save up enough money to pay for a fancy cooking school and most of all, he believes, without a doubt, that his soulmate will come around before he's even lived a year longer than he's supposed to.

“But don't you want to wait?” Louis asks a bit baffled. “Most people go on a quest to find themselves first? Have an adventure, live a little? As soon as you find your soulmate, it's almost always marriage, children all of that.”

“Oh no, I don't need the other stuff, I want _that_ , the house and the kids and everything,” Harry beams.

“Even as young as you are?” Louis stares at him.

“Yeah.” There's such a blissful look on Harry's face as he says it, Louis just can't bear to be the asshole to destroy all of his perfect little fantasies. He doesn't need someone as bitter as Louis to tell him that the whole thing is a hoax and there isn't a perfect soulmate for everyone out there, especially not one he'll find in a year's time.

But Harry looks so _happy_ when he thinks about his future, it makes Louis wonder when he lost the ability to see the world as he does.

 

The next day, the café is busier than usual and Louis has to resort to pulling out his laptop again, just to have something to do. After thirty minutes, an exhausted Harry flops down on the seat across from him, immediately letting his head fall to the table.

“What's it like, not aging?” he asks, a bit muffled because he's talking mostly into the table.

Louis laughs. Harry really needs to work on his conversation starters.

Also, what kind of question is that? At this point, he might as well ask him what it's like to breathe.

“Lonely,” Louis settles on. The moment it's out, he wants to take it back. Why does he have turn every conversation into a depressing direction?

Harry looks up at that and frowns at Louis. “You don't seem like you're bad at making friends, no matter which decade.”

Louis shrugs. “Stopped trying at one point. Didn't see much sense in it.”

Harry looks incredibly sad at that. “But there have to be others like you? People who have been waiting? Did you ever try one of these support groups everyone is talking about at the moment?”

If Harry didn't say it in his usual _Harry_ way, his eyes wide and sincere, Louis might have snapped at him. As if he hasn't tried everything those stupid infomercials had suggested.

“They don't get me.” If it was anyone else, Louis would have stopped at that. But because it's Harry, and some part of him _knows_ that Harry would not laugh or scoff or awkwardly try to change the subject. He'd _listen_.

“Most of them get tired of waiting when they hit the ten-year-mark. I've met people who waited twenty, some thirty, and I know a guy who's been around for at least fifty years,” Louis explains, fondly thinking of Niall. “But I'm the only one who had to wait longer than a century. I've never heard of anyone else. They _don't_ get me,” he repeats, almost forcefully.

Part of him is still afraid of Harry's reaction to learning how old he actually is, this vague admission is the closest he's come to mentioning his real age in a long time.

Harry, though, just says, “That sounds like it must have been hard for you,” in a soft voice. “You can talk to me about it, if you ever want to, though.” He doesn't sound like he's just saying it to be nice.

Louis, inexplicably, feels a lump in his throat forming at Harry's words. “Thank you,” he gets out, hoping to convey that even though he can't talk about it right now, that doesn't mean he never will.

Harry reaches for Louis' hand across the small table, squeezes it once, and then gets up to go back to work. Louis feels a bit dazed, like every time Harry does something so profoundly _Harry_ , and it takes him a few minutes to get himself together enough to be able to go back to work.

 

After Louis' admission about being lonely, Harry seems to make it his personal mission to get him to socialize. He thought Nick was insistent, but his occasional calls are nothing in comparison to Harry's efforts.

For one, he keeps Louis standing at the register waiting for his drink way longer than necessary by spilling various beverages all over himself on purpose, forcing him to make small-talk with his colleague Zayn, who seems as enthusiastic about the whole thing as Louis is.

Zayn does, however, offer to go skating with Louis, and he might have been forced into it, but he seems like a cool dude and Louis hasn't been on a skateboard since the 70's, so he accepts.

Also, Harry keeps inviting him to hang out with his friends, which Louis is much more reluctant to agree to. Harry has mentioned a few times that all of his friends are really young and Louis is afraid he'd feel terribly out of place among them. He's also afraid they are gonna ask uncomfortable questions about his age, or worse, his intentions towards Harry.

So it's probably due to temporary insanity or the fact that Louis is absolutely unable to deny Harry anything at all, that he's currently standing in front of Harry's flat, afraid to knock.

When he finally works up the courage, a tall blonde girl opens the door. Behind her, Louis can see more people either sitting on a couch or standing around in circles, a drink in their hand. This is not a small gathering. This is a party.

“Hi, I'm Taylor,” the blonde girl says cheerfully before waving Louis in. Louis sighs, before he steps over the threshold. This is gonna be interesting.

 

It's honestly not as much of a disaster as Louis expected, but that's entirely due to Harry's friend-slash-boss Liam, who turns out to be the equivalent of a human puppy and immediately takes Louis under his wing after Harry quickly introduces the two of them and then runs off again to play host.

Liam's constant commentary about various guests turns out to be very helpful, it saves Louis the trouble of having to learn any names and gives him a good idea of who to stay clear off.

The only thing he could have done without is Liam's helpful remarks about the people in this room Harry hooked up with in the past. It honestly only boils down to two and a half (one was apparently just a first date that went wrong) but Louis can't keep the small scowl off his face when Liam tells him that Taylor, the bubbly blonde girl that opened the door earlier, used to hook up with Harry a few times before they decided (or rather, as Liam tells him, _Harry_ decided) they were better off as friends.

Louis always thought he was the one awkwardly breaking Harry's heart after their hook-up, but maybe he'd gotten it all wrong and Harry was actually glad Louis didn't turn out to be a clingy one-night-stand. Louis doesn't know why the thought causes an uncomfortable feeling to settle in his chest.

 

For some reason, later in the evening he finds himself sitting next to Taylor on the couch. Louis is feeling slightly grumpy already, mostly because Harry has apparently managed to talk to nearly everyone in this flat except for him so far.

“So, have you met your soulmate yet?” Taylor asks. Louis resists the urge to roll his eyes. Great, small-talk. He loves small-talk.

“No,” he answers, in a tone he hopes sounds polite, but probably comes across as a bit too passive-aggressive, considering that it was a pretty harmless question.

Taylor seems unperturbed. “I have met mine, but I don't know who it is yet.” She sighs dramatically after the words, as if this is the most terrible thing to ever happen to her. It probably is.

“How do you know you've met them, then?” Louis asks, lifting his eyebrows slightly.

“Oh, I go to a doctor who controls the aging of my skin regularly. It has been the same for over a year when suddenly it wasn't anymore.”

Louis has to admit he's impressed. That's clever, if not also terribly expensive, he doesn't think any insurance covers that. There's also a slight spark of jealousy at the fact that she'd only been waiting for one year and she's already aging again. He tries to shake the feeling.

“But then, how do you not know who it is? How many people have you kissed in between appointments?”

Taylor sighs again. “Only four, but it could be any of them. Now I'm just gonna have to wait if any of them has started aging as well. And then... look if it feels right I guess? I really wish this method was more fool-proof.”

Louis thinks a bit bitterly about the fact that he hasn't even kissed four people in the last ten years (he doesn't think bathroom blowjobs in clubs count as _kissing_ ), but on the bright side, at least he's not gonna run into Taylor's problem.

She lowers her voice and leans over to him.

“Actually, Harry is one of them, so I'm keeping an eye on him, but I'm kind of hoping it will turn out to be my friend Dianna,” she whispers. Louis feels like she just dumped a cold bucket of water over his head. The idea of Harry having a soulmate causes an ugly feeling in his stomach that spreads through his whole body. Even more horrifying is the idea of him having a soulmate like Taylor, who doesn't even _want_ Harry, who wouldn't even _know_ how lucky she was.

“Good luck with that,” Louis manages to choke out and vacates his spot on the couch. Socializing is definitely overrated.

 

He _does_ manage to talk to Harry eventually, but by then the boy is so plastered that he can't even string two sentences together and their whole interaction consists of Louis first leading him to the kitchen to get a glass of water, then ending Harry's house party by gently but firmly throwing all of the guests out and finally, getting him tucked safely into bed.

“Thank you,” Harry slurs. Louis has only taken off Harry's glittery golden boots, it's nothing he hasn't seen before but he'd still feel weird about undressing Harry under these circumstances.

“S'rry I didn't talk t'you much tonight. Wanted to throw a party, so you'd think 'm, like, cool and grown up'n'stuff. Also was afraid you'd think I'm annoying. Only ever wanna spend time with you though.” Harry waves his hand around in the direction of Louis' face while he says it, gently following the lines of his cheekbones with his fingers when he finally manages to coordinate his hands enough to reach it.

Louis' throat suddenly feels tight. “I don't think you're annoying. You're the coolest person I know,” he whispers.

Harry sighs. “You're really nice, Lou. Your m'favourite. Love you,” he mumbles quietly, before he starts snoring softly.

Louis is left sitting on the edge of Harry's bed in the dark, wondering how he managed, after all these years, to fall in love again, and then it's with someone who's definitely not his soulmate.

 

After his first attempt to socialize with Harry's friends kind of failed spectacularly, Louis doesn't have much hope for his skate-meet-up with Zayn, so he's positively surprised when Zayn turns out to be kind of cool.

They mess around on their skateboards for an hour, before deciding that they've had enough exercising for the day, so they lie down on the ramps and get high on the weed Zayn brought.

“Harry loves soulmates,” Zayn starts out of nowhere. So far, their conversation has mostly been small-talk and comfortable silence, but apparently smoking makes Zayn talkative.

“Okay?” Louis answers. He has an idea where this conversation is going and he doesn't like it.

“He's proper obsessed with them. He reads all of these trashy romance novels and when he's done with them he reads the actual _science_ behind soulmates, the stuff about how it's possible that you stop aging, how kissing your soulmate makes you start aging again, stuff like that. And after that he proceeds to tell _me_ about how there is actually _no science_ behind it and how much he loves the fucking _magic_.” Even though Zayn's tone stays fairly neutral, this is the most passionate Louis has heard him talk, ever. He suspects Zayn's actually much more emotionally invested in this than he'd like to be.

“That's nice,” Louis says warily.

Zayn sighs. “What I'm saying is, be careful, okay? Harry is too trusting and he loves very easily and he might understand logically that you guys aren't soulmates but that doesn't mean you can't still hurt him.”

Louis feels that sting in his chest that he's grown accustomed to in the last few weeks, the one he always gets when someone mentions the possibility that Harry might want _Louis_ to be his soulmate. The one that hurts and feels shamefully thrilling at the same time.

“I really like him,” Louis says without looking at Zayn. It's not technically an answer to Zayn's statement, but he accepts it as one anyway, nods, and then gets up.

“C'mon,” Zayn says, offering Louis a hand. “Let's skate some more and then you can drop me off at work. Maybe Harry will even still be there.”

Louis would have to lie to say that that wasn't a successful motivation tactic.

 

For some reason, Harry and Louis' occasional movie nights at one of their flats are slowly but surely turning into, “I really want to see that film on the big screen,” and, “We might as well grab dinner together afterwards.”

Still, Louis finds himself surprised when he's spending his Friday evening at a cosy Italian restaurant, sitting across from Harry and not wishing he'd stayed at home in his joggers instead.

Their conversation has been pleasant and relaxed so far. Louis has been playfully teasing Harry for the amount of unfastened buttons on his shirt for the whole evening, and he's drunk enough wine that he's stopped trying to tell himself he doesn't do it for the way Harry blushes every time he gets teased.

During dessert, while a wine-drunk and giggling Harry is trying to feed Louis some of his chocolate cake, Louis wonders if their friendship will ever not have this underlying _tension_ , this question of _what if_.

“Louis, are you listening to me?”

Louis looks up, blinking at Harry. “Sorry, was distracted. What did we talk about?”

“Nothing important. Tell me what you were thinking about.” He says it softly, not like a command at all.

Louis doesn't answer for a while. Then he starts with, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Harry says, frowning a bit. He looks like he's trying his hardest to follow Louis' thought process.

“Why do you love that soulmate-stuff so much?” Louis isn't asking to embarrass Harry, or trying to ridicule him. He genuinely just wants to _understand_.

Harry doesn't answer for a moment, seeming like he's trying to really think about his answer. Again, Louis marvels at him, how he puts such efforts in the simplest conversations, as if he couldn't imagine anything more important than talking to Louis. After years of loneliness, Louis doesn't quite know how to deal with it.

“I've loved it ever since I was little, you know. My mum used to tell me these stories, about how she met my dad. He took her dancing, kissed her good night, and the next morning they both just _knew_. They couldn't see any actual changes yet, but she told me her heart was beating differently.” Harry has a wistful look on his face, almost as if he's reliving the memory himself.

“From then on I was obsessed. I begged my mum to tell me the story again and again, I read everything I could about soulmates, I watched all the sickeningly sweet fluff movies. Through all of that, I never stopped believing that my soulmate was out there and they would be the best kind of person I could possibly imagine.”

Louis' throat feels dry. “I'm sure they will be,” he says quietly. He remembers Zayn's words, about how much Harry loves the _magic_ of it all. He can't bear to tarnish that with his bitterness.

When he looks up, Harry's face looks guarded again, almost as if he's regretting letting that much slip. Harry sits himself up again, straightening his back. “Okay, now you have to answer my question. Honestly.”

Louis nods gravely, not quite sure in what direction Harry wants to take this.

“In all of those years, did you ever have a real relationship?”

Louis gulps. “Define relationship.”

“One that lasted longer than a month.”

“Yes,” Louis admits. When Harry doesn't say anything, just keeps looking at him as if he's ready for Louis to lay out his entire life-story, he continues. “I had been twenty for about ten years, having a lot of short flings and enjoying my freedom. It was... shortly before World War I.” Louis pauses, but Harry shows no reaction to his exact age, he's probably guessed it was around the turn of the century already.

“His name was George. Shortly after we met, we were... I guess you could call it courting. I was convinced we were soulmates. You have to understand, I was so _young_. One of my sisters had just found her soulmate, they kissed and a few weeks later her hair had doubled in length, he found a freckle on his skin that wasn't there before, the perfect fairytale story. I wanted it to be like that for me, so when I kissed George for the first time, I didn't doubt that this was it.”

Louis cringes a bit, knowing what part of the story comes next. “So, imagine my surprise, when after a few more months of, like, being together, he started aging, but I didn't. At first I tried to convince myself I was, but I waited a few more weeks and then a few more until it became obvious that it wouldn't happen anymore. So I finally confronted George.”

Harry looks at him with unwavering attention, looking completely enraptured by the story.

“Turns out, he had kissed another boy who worked in his household. And instead of being sorry, he was mad at _me_ for not telling him sooner, for _wasting his time_.”

It has been years ago and Louis considers himself well and truly over this part of his past, but he can't help the slight bitterness that still sneaks into his tone. Maybe that's just part of his personality though.

“After that, I still hadn't completely lost hope. There were a few other ones, who then went to war, then I went to war, I kissed a lot of them, always trying to convince myself that this time it was finally happening. But through everything, I didn't age, I didn't get sick but I knew if a bullet hit me I wouldn't heal properly because my cells couldn't regenerate fast enough. My sister Lottie, the first who found her soulmate, grew up without me, my parents died. I lost some of my siblings to the war, some to old age, but in the end, I've lost them all.” Unlike George, this is a loss Louis still isn't completely over, doesn't think he ever will be.

He's afraid to look up, but Harry doesn't look at him with pity. His eyes seem a bit glassy, but his gaze is open and full of warmth.

“I'm sorry,” Harry says seriously, reaching for his hand. Distantly, Louis is aware that they are still in the fancy Italian restaurant, a shared bottle of wine and a lit candle between them. He doesn't think Harry has any intentions at the moment, though, other than offering Louis some comfort.

“I'm sorry that the world wasn't as kind to you as you deserve.”

From anyone else, the words would have sounded completely ridiculous. Harry, saying them with wide, bright eyes, sounds nothing but sincere.

“Thank you,” Louis mumbles. “Let's go home?” He doesn't want to end this night on such a melodramatic note, but he's starting to feel slightly overwhelmed.

Harry nods. He doesn't let go of Louis' hand for the entire walk home.

 

Contrary to common belief, Louis does have a certain amount of self-awareness. For example, he is aware that his preferred method of dealing with his feelings is through complete denial. He also likes to not be called out on that denial, so he does the only smart thing: Dodging Niall's increasingly frequent calls.

He hasn't taken into consideration that Niall is very persistent when he wants to and _especially_ when Louis gives him a reason to worry. Not that Louis' entire existence in itself isn't a constant reason for worrying, but he has to admit lately it might be more justified than usual.

Still, he doesn't expect it when the doorbell rings at eight in the morning after his not-date with Harry and Niall is standing in front of him.

“Hi Tommo,” he greets him cheerfully and hugs him, one of those full-on koala-hugs that only Niall can do properly.

“Hi,” Louis replies, perplexed, letting himself be hugged.

“Remember when I told you I was your soulmate guru?” Niall walks into his flat without waiting for Louis to invite him in and immediately sprawls himself out on Louis' couch.

“Being your soulmate guru means you have to update me on your soulmate adventures regularly. There are rules for these things.”

Louis doesn't say anything, he just crosses his arms in front of his chest and fixes Niall with a grumpy stare, contemplating whether or not it would be considered rude to throw out someone he hasn't seen in almost five years.

“I know what you're thinking,” Niall holds up his hands placatingly.

“I doubt it,” Louis comments dryly. Niall ignores him.

“Why, dear Niall, haven't you come earlier to save me from my own idiocy? Well, I was busy, but fear not, I'm here now. Tell me your worries.” He pats invitingly on the empty spot next to him on the couch. Louis stays standing.

“There is nothing to tell. I haven't answered your calls because I was busy.”

Niall raises his eyebrows. “Don't worry, I will get it out of you.”

With that, he grabs the remote and turns the TV on. Apparently, the conversation is over for now. Louis sighs and finally sits down next to him. This is going to be fun.

 

It's decidedly not fun, which becomes especially clear when Niall gets up to search for beer a few minutes later and lets out a loud scream at the sight of the kitchen.

Louis immediately comes running in, fearing for a moment Niall has found a spider or some other animal that does not belong in his flat.

“What is this?”

Louis looks in the direction Niall is pointing at, confused. “My... refrigerator?”

Niall stares at it as if he's never seen a refrigerator in his life. He turns to Louis. “Why is it... full?”

“Oh, Harry brought some stuff over,” Louis answers nonchalantly.

“Harry... brought some stuff... over,” Niall repeats, disbelief clear in his voice as he inspects a cucumber in Louis' fridge as if it's about to attack him. Louis thinks he should be offended at someone nearly having a heart-attack at him owning a few vegetables, but if he's being honest, Niall's reaction is kind of justified. He never would have bought this stuff without Harry.

“He likes to cook,” Louis says, hearing the defensiveness in his voice.

Niall seems to get over his initial shock and starts to grin at Louis.

“He cooks for you,” he coos. “You _do_ need me to be your soulmate guru.”

Louis wordlessly gets two beers out of the fully stocked kitchen and sits down again. If he's going to tell Niall this story, he needs alcohol.

 

Two hours and several beers later, Niall seems like he's close to weeping on Louis' chest. Mostly he's switching between talking about how Harry and Louis are the cutest couple he's ever met and about how Louis is the biggest idiot he's ever met.

Several of Louis', “But we _aren't soulmates_ ,” protests get ignored.

Towards the end of the night, Niall sits up, puts both of his hands on Louis' shoulder and tells him, his words slightly slurred, “I'm gonna get you your soulmate, Louis. Don't you worry. That's what I'm here for. You just have to do something. That's _the key_.”

Then he promptly lays down again and falls asleep on the sofa.

 

The next morning, Niall insists on following Louis to work, promising he won't disturb him and will just quietly sit in his office to do his own work. Louis doesn't think Niall even has a proper job, but he's afraid to actually ask, so he lets him tag along without complaining (much).

Of course, he should have known that Niall would insist on tagging along to _Brews & Bagels_.

What he didn't expect however, was Niall walking through the doors, taking one look at the counter and stopping dead in his tracks.

“Louis,” he says faintly. “Is that Harry?”

Louis looks up in the direction Niall is quite obviously pointing in and is just met with the face of an amused looking Zayn. He looks between them a few times. Oh, _this_ is going to be fun.

“No, that's his best friend, Zayn,” Louis says easily. He can basically see the moment his words register in Niall's brain. He bets he's also remembering their conversation about quirky best friends in romantic comedies right about now.

A few seconds later, Niall turns to him. The look on his face is surprisingly determined. “Is he single?” he asks Louis, simple, like they are talking about the weather. Well, Louis guesses not everyone can be as emotionally constipated as he is.

“Um,” Louis answers. “Yes.”

“Good,” Niall smiles. “Soulmate status? Already waiting? Pining for his high-school sweetheart and hoping he just keeps aging as soon as he turns twenty? Over a hundred years old?”

Louis knows the last one is a jab in his direction, but he's so perplexed that he just answers, “I think he turned twenty in January. Haven't heard him mention anything soulmate-related yet, I don't think he has one in mind. He kind of just lets life happen to him, you know? He has what you would call a 'YOLO-attitude'.”

Niall grins. “Good.”

With that, he's crossing the room in a couple of strides, right towards the counter.

Harry has appeared next to Zayn by now and he's throwing a confused look in Louis' direction. Louis just shrugs helplessly.

“Hi, I'm Niall,” Louis can hear him say, before he _grabs Zayn_ by the front of his work shirt, yanks him towards him and plants a kiss on his mouth, half draped across the counter the whole time.

Louis' mouth falls open. He barely has time to exchange a wide-eyed look with Harry before Niall smiles at Zayn, scribbles down something on a napkin, says, “Call me if we turn out to be soulmates,” and then walks back towards Louis.

“See, that's how it's done,” he says to Louis, before he just _leaves the café._

Louis stares after him for a moment, before he realizes he has to get drinks for both of them now. Typical.

 

Despite his misgivings, Louis can't help but be slightly impressed by Niall's spontaneous action.

Niall camps on his couch for a few more days and comes with Louis to the coffee shop every day, observing and judging his harmless interactions with Harry while flirting with Zayn at the same time.

Louis can't help but wonder if Niall is right. Is it really that easy?

On the fifth evening, he can't seem to take it anymore.

“Louis,” he mutes the TV and turns to him with a serious look. Louis gulps. “The soulmate-thing isn't even that important to you, right? You said it yourself, you don't get the hype.”

“What?” Louis asks. “Well, no, but considering it's stopping me from aging right now, I'd say it's pretty damn important.”

“But the aging isn't even your problem,” Niall says. “The problem is you being lonely and bitter and afraid of love. You can't find your soulmate if you don't _want_ to find your soulmate.”

“Of course I want to,” Louis scoffs. Even to his own ears it sounds untrue.

Niall gives him a judging look, as if he can see right through him. “Honestly Louis, the walls you have build up around you are so thick, I sometimes marvel that you even survived that long without letting someone in. Humans aren't meant to be so miserable and lonely for such a long time.” Louis opens his mouth to protest, but Niall doesn't even let him start.

“Why aren't you with Harry right now?” he demands. “And don't give me that bullshit 'we aren't soulmates'-answer. You know as well as I do that you can't know that so soon. Especially not if you're as deep in denial about anything soulmate-related as you are. And even if you did know, does it really matter? As far as I see it, the soulmates-thing is supposed to _help_ you fall in love, not stop you.”

Louis doesn't have an answer. Judging by Niall's smug look, he knows that.

 

Two days later, Louis comes home from work to find Niall and Zayn making out on his couch.

They both don't seem particularly worried about his presence and he has to cough very loudly three times in a row before they even _start_ to separate.

“Oh, hi Louis, you remember Zayn,” Niall says casually, still not making a move to get up from his position on the couch, his whole body draped over Zayn's. “Turns out we might be soulmates.”

“What,” Louis sputters.

“Yes, see, the useful thing about a buzzcut,” at that he runs a finger over Zayn's head, “is that you immediately notice when your hair is growing again. Speaking of, does yours look longer as well?”

Louis stares at them for at least ten more seconds before he turns on his heel and bolts out the door again, leaving Niall and Zayn to their own devices (and, sadly, his couch). There is something he needs to do.

 

As soon as Harry opens the door to his flat, Louis brushes past him, exclaiming, “I'm so glad you're home, I really have to talk to- oh.” He pauses.

Harry looks like- well, he looks like shit. He's wearing pyjamas, his face is swollen and puffy, and as soon as he's let Louis in, he collapses back on the sofa face-down. There is some mindless reality show playing on the TV in the background, but Harry doesn't seem like he's making an effort to actually watch it, considering he's currently smothering his face in some pillows.

Louis stares at him coughing pathetically, surrounded by a mountain of blankets and tissue paper. It takes him a few seconds to connect the dots and as soon as he does he almost bolts from the room.

It's not like he's afraid of germs. It's just that-

“You're aging,” he says, willing his voice not to shake. He tries to collect his thoughts, tries to think of an incident where someone got sick despite not aging and he _can't_ , he can't think of anything.

But if Harry is aging and Louis is not, that means-

And no, it can't be. There's a horrible thought that Louis tries to fight, but it claws its way up his throat until it clogs his brain and he can't stop it from buzzing in his mind, almost like fire alarm, every fibre of his being telling him to _run_. Harry has started aging right away, there's no indication that he's ever stopped, so every person kissing him before his birthday is a possibility.

There is one person Louis _knows_ has kissed Harry before his twentieth birthday. And Taylor has started aging again as well.

“I need to go,” Louis chokes out. He still lingers for a moment, stupidly tries to commit Harry's face to memory, because he knows it would be too painful to see him again soon. He needs time to lick his wounds in peace.

Harry looks mostly confused and hurt, also still pathetically sick.

“Where?” he asks, innocent, obviously not understanding the situation for what it is yet. Louis can't be the one to explain it to him, he just can't.

“Home, for a while, I think. I'm gonna call you.”

Louis feels like shit for leaving Harry like this and he feels even worse when he sees Harry's face fall and, trying to hide that he's hurt.

Louis hates himself a bit – a lot – for what he’s about to do, but he sees no other way, no possibility in which he could protect himself.

He has to make Harry understand, though. He owes it to him.

“You have the flu Harry, don't you get it? In all these years,” he chokes a bit on the words, “I've never gotten sick. I just don't. People don't get sick when they aren't aging. It doesn't work like this.”

Harry's eyes widen, but he doesn't necessarily look scared or angry. As Louis suspected, there is a spark of joy and hope in his eyes. Of course, Harry, who wants a soulmate more than anything, would be happy about this. Louis just hopes whoever Harry's soulmate is, is worth that happiness, is gonna live up to all of his expectations and take care of him.

There's nothing in the world that he wants more than to see Harry happy, but right now, he selfishly can't watch it happen in front of him, knowing the reason is someone other than him.

“I'm sorry,” Louis says again. Then he runs out of the door.

 

In over 100 years, Louis has felt hurt, angry and miserable lots of times. Several of his relationships have ended very badly, his entire family died before him and he lived through two world wars.

So this should be nothing but a small bump in the road, a nuisance to get over.

For some reason though, it's not. He almost feels like he's the one with the flu, except that he hasn't got any actual symptoms, he just feels _drained_ , empty. Like a part of him has been cut out. The worst of it may be that he knows he doesn't have the _right_ to feel this way. Harry isn't his soulmate, this feeling should be reserved exclusively for his soulmate.

For a moment his thoughts linger on Taylor but that just brings on a fresh wave of pain and resentment, so he tries not to think about her too much. Imagining Harry with a soulmate is painful enough on its own. Imagining him with a soulmate who might not even _love_ him is way worse and not something Louis feels equipped to deal with right now.

Actually, he doesn't feel equipped to deal with anything about this situation. All these years and he never managed to build up a proper coping mechanism for _anything_. His strategy has always been to run before he could get left behind, to build up walls, to not let anyone close.

In just a few short weeks, Harry has destroyed all of that, left Louis vulnerable and open. Louis feels like Harry took his armour off peace by peace. He should have expected a knife to come sooner or later, even if it might not have been specifically Harry himself holding it.

Fate is cruel and Louis has known it all along, but somehow, he hasn't realized how much he still believed in the possibility of him and Harry maybe, possibly still turning out to be soulmates after all, until it was taken away so brutally.

 

Louis isn't going to get out of bed, no matter how much Niall (and, annoyingly, his brand-new soulmate Zayn) insist on it. They have been over far too often in the last few days, bringing over snacks, soup, a stack of DVDs and, annoyingly, a lot of unwanted well-intended advice. At least, Niall isn't sleeping on his couch anymore, spending all of his time at Zayn's now.

Right now, someone is knocking on his door. _Again_.

“Leave me alone, Niall!” Louis screams through the closed door. The person in front of it is knocking _very_ insistently. Clearly one of his neighbours has buzzed them into the building already. He needs to have a word with them about neighbourhood-safety.

“Not Niall,” a muffled voice that Louis can't immediately place, says from the other side of the door.

Louis hesitantly opens it. “Nick?” he asks, his mouth hanging open.

Nick is not the kind of friend to show up at his door unannounced. Actually, until right now, Louis wasn't even sure they could be considered friends at all.

He's so baffled that he doesn't even protest when Nick lets himself in, and, with a slightly disgusted look at the state of Louis' flat, clears a space for himself on the sofa and sits down.

“We need to talk,” Nick starts.

Louis rolls his eyes. Of course they do.

“Niall called me and said you needed my help.”

Louis huffs and crosses his arms in front of his chest, not caring that he looks like a petulant child, but otherwise stays quiet.

“Look, Louis. I know you. I know what's going on in your head.”

Louis doubts it. It's not a pretty place most of the time, the inside of his head.

“Harry started aging, you're in love with him and now you think all your tentative hopes for a future are lost.” Nick makes a pause, probably just for dramatic effect. “Let me ask you a question: Why?”

“Why?” Louis repeats, baffled.

“Why are you giving up this easily?” Nick looks genuinely curious. Louis is confused.

“Because...” he starts slowly, as if speaking to a child. “Harry has a soulmate? He's literally gonna live happily ever after with the love of his life while I will probably be invited to their wedding and have to eat cake and pretend to be happy?”

Nick sighs, loudly. “Let me tell you about myself,” he says, not even bothering to pretend like he's replying to anything Louis said. Not for the first time since he's known him, Louis wonders if Nick actually likes him.

“I was married,” Nick states. Louis almost does a double-take. Nick still looks as calm as always in front of him, his face unchanged, stuck at twenty.

“They weren't your soulmate?” Louis asks slowly.

“No,” Nick answers, still with that unnerving calmness in his voice. “He wasn't. We were in love anyway. We wanted to spend our lives together, we knew that.”

“He started aging,” Louis guesses.

“Yes,” Nick answers. Louis is surprised at how little pain he can hear in his voice. He doesn't think Nick is trying to hide it, he really seems like he moved on. Louis supposes other people have better coping mechanisms than him, who still hasn't gotten over a lot of things that happened several decades ago.  
“So you married a guy who then found his soulmate and left you. How is that supposed to help me?”  
“Ah, but that's where you're wrong. He didn't leave.”  
“What?”  
“He stayed with me. His soulmate was a girl, lovely woman, they got along great. She was also a lesbian.”

Louis' mouth drops open. “But why wasn't her soulmate a girl then? I've never heard of something like this happening.”

Nick chuckles. “Then you're obviously not looking in the right place. I know our society is made up of all these perfect soulmate visions, but sometimes real life is messier. Feelings are messy. It's just not something most people want to hear about.”

“But you're still twenty. You're still waiting for your soulmate? What happened to your husband?”

“He died,” Nick says. Now he actually looks sad, but also wistful, as if the thought of him is a happy memory, not a painful one.  
“He was old when he died, peacefully. I got to hold his hand. Isn't that the best ending I could have wished for?”

Louis shrugs helplessly. For all his years of living, he feels impossibly young right now. This is not something he ever thought about, not something he knew was happening. He hid himself away for most of the years he's been alive, mostly feeling sorry for himself. Right now, he's only feeling naïve and foolish.  
“Love is not only worth something if it's forever, you know. Isn't it better to be happy for a short while, then not be happy at all?” Nick asks, his face more serious than Louis has ever seen him.

Louis shakes his head before Nick has even really finished his sentence. “I can't,” he whispers, looking up.

“Nick, I can't. He has someone else.”

Now he sees real emotion on Nick's face. “But does he want them, or you? I think that should be his decision. Not yours. Yours should be, whether or not you can make the same choice I did. If you want to look for your own soulmate, want to start aging again, that's your choice, but only that one. Don't make Harry's for him.”

When Louis doesn't answer for a while, Nick stands up with a sigh. “Think about it, okay? I know you know what to do.” With that, he leaves.

Louis doesn't know if he's thankful for his visit or not. Before, the situation was simple; there was nothing he could do but to live with this new reality in which Harry found his soulmate.

Now, Nick has shown him that he's got a choice. Louis only wishes he'd feel capable to make it.

 

He's slumped on the couch in front of the TV again, which seems to have become a pattern in the last few days.

There are a thousand thoughts running through his head. One of his sisters, Félicité, used to make lists to organize her thoughts, writing them down over and over again. Louis' thoughts are less organized, his mind flips from pro to contra in less than a second, the arguments repeating themselves in his head until he feels dizzy.

“ _Still looking for your soulmate?_ ” a commercial starts on in the background.

Louis hasn't thought about it much before, but he kind of gets what Nick was saying about not looking for the unconventional soulmate-stories before. Their whole society is directed towards finding your soulmate. If you don't look for anything out of the ordinary, you won't find it.

As the commercial drones on and on, Louis realizes that he can't go back to that life. Spending time with Harry these last few months, even if he never really believed they were soulmates, has gotten him out of that funk he'd found himself in.

His thoughts used to revolve around finally aging, finally finding _something_ to break him out of his dull routine. Harry did that. He may not be Louis' soulmate, but he did show him a different way of living.

Louis turns the TV off. He's not ready to give that up yet. Even if Harry isn't his soulmate, he deserves at least an explanation. He deserves better than Louis running away time and time again.

 

Louis has been standing in front of Harry's door for twenty minutes now and he's starting to feel creepy. If he doesn't knock soon, he's pretty sure one of Harry's neighbours is gonna call the police.

He tries to suppress the hundreds of worst case scenarios he's been imagining in the past few minutes and, finally, knocks.

When Harry opens the door, he still looks a little bit sick, a little bit sad, but mostly _very_ angry. Louis has to really pull himself together to not flinch at his unforgiving facial expression and run in the other direction.

“What are you doing here?” Harry asks incredulously.

“Um, hi. Can we talk?” Louis fidgets nervously with his shirt sleeves while asking and he's kind of afraid to look Harry directly in the eye, so he's fixating a point somewhere near his left ear.

Harry looks like he's about to close the door again, so Louis puts a foot forward and rushes out, “Please, just one second.”

Harry is clearly trying to mask his emotions, a stark difference to the openness Louis has become used to, but he nods, and lets Louis in.

He's too nervous to sit down, so he just stands around awkwardly, the only difference to before that he's now inside the flat instead of on the outside.

“So, I understand you're mad, you probably didn't want to see me again, and spend time with your new soulmate, whatever,” Louis' voice gets a bit shaky at that part, but he tries to cover it up by talking even faster, “but I just wanted to say a couple of things and after that you can throw me out, I promise.”

Harry makes a confused noise. “I think... we have two different ideas what this fight is about.”

Louis blinks.

Harry sighs. “I'm mad that you left me while I was sick and miserable and had also just found out that I have a soulmate. Oh, and the small little fact that you didn't even stay long enough for me to tell you that I'm pretty sure it's _you_. _You_ are my soulmate Louis.” He says it with such conviction in his voice that even Louis, who _knows_ it's not true, starts to doubt himself for one tiny second.

“I thought you didn't want me, didn't want to be my soulmate.” Now Harry's voice sounds small.

“No,” Louis rushes out. “No, you don't understand, I _do_ want you, more than anything.”

Harry's face lights up with hope. Louis curses himself. He's not good at this.

“ _But_ , we aren't soulmates, Harry,” he says desperately, willing Harry to understand. “We can't be. I haven't been aging. I've been stuck like this since 1901, I'd notice if I was aging. And I'm sorry, but I'm _not_.” He can hear that his voice sounds shaky and like he's been holding back tears, but he can't bring himself to care. Harry just has to _understand_.

But Harry doesn't look as disturbed as Louis expected him too. “I'm pretty sure you are, though,” he just states, as if it was that easy, as if fate could be tricked if you just believed in it strong enough.

“You must have kissed lots of people before your twentieth birthday, though. What about Taylor? She's aging as well!”

“It's not her,” Harry says, a lot of conviction in his voice. “I'm _very_ sure, trust me on this.”

Louis isn't convinced yet. “What about the person you had your first kiss with? Lost your virginity to? Anyone in between? All of them are possibility!” Now Louis is basically screaming. Why doesn't Harry _get_ the gravity of this situation, why does he think it's that _easy_?

“I don't want any of them, though,” Harry states, finally a bit agitated, not as calm as before. “If fate didn't give me you as a soulmate, there was a giant mistake. And I don't believe fate makes mistakes. You are my soulmate. You just don't know it yet.” Before Louis can protest, Harry lifts a hand in a _wait_ -gesture.

“And even if for some crazy reason, the universe made a mistake and you aren't,” at this Harry's voice gets choked up. He takes a step towards Louis and takes both of his hands. “I only want you. These last few weeks, just being friends with you, have been amazing. But I _know_ we can be more. We'd be _good_ together, Louis. I was devastated after you rejected me. So please,” he finally looks up from their joined hands, his eyes glassy with tears, but determined. “Please don't do it again. Give us a chance.”

There, in front of him, Louis realizes, is the choice Nick talked about. But he can't make it like this. Not when he isn't sure Harry really understands what he's giving up.

“You don't want to find your real soulmate though?” Louis asks softly. “Whoever it is, they have been specifically made for you. You could grow old with them. I, however, would stay twenty forever. You'd always be the Wendy to my Peter Pan.” It's supposed to come out as a joke but it just sounds sad.

Harry nods, determined. “Yes. Even if it were that way, which I don't believe it is,” he says before Louis can interrupt. “But yes. I don't want some fictional perfect soulmate. I want _you_.”

“I want you too,” Louis says, and for the moment, it's enough, enough of an agreement for him to close the gap between them, to grab the front of Harry's shirt and pull him closer, closer, to finally push their lips together.

 

It starts off wild, rushed. The pent up-emotion between them is finally exploding and they make it to the bedroom much like last time, kissing, leaving clothes, and stopping at walls on the way to snog while pushing the other against them.

As soon as Louis has Harry laid out in front of him, though, it's like time seems to stop. He wants to press kisses to every single inch of skin he can reach and he _can_ now, Harry's allowed him to. Louis still doesn't believe he has forever, but he has this for now. It's enough to make him dizzy, light-headed, the idea that this wonderful creature _belongs to him_ , not because fate decided for them, but because he _wants to_.

“Baby,” Louis breathes. _Honey, darling, sweetheart_ , he wants to add, his mind full of cheesy pet names he would have made fun of before. Harry deserves all of them, Louis feels like he needs to know how loved and appreciated he is every single time Louis opens his mouth.

Watching the way Harry is squirming underneath him, he seems to enjoy it.

“Stay still, darling,” Louis whispers. He toys with the idea of grabbing Harry's wrists and holding them down, but, maybe another time. This night is just gonna be slow and loving, carefully getting reacquainted to each others bodies.

He feels like this, whether it's because their second time or because there is so much more emotion between them now than the simple crush from last time, is _different_. Good different.

He takes his time to learn what Harry likes, which spots make him squirm and moan and he notices Harry learning as well, the way he's touching Louis almost reverently, as if he doesn't quite believe he actually gets to have this. Louis can relate.

He takes his time opening Harry up, but this time it's with intent, his fear of overstepping a boundary or being too intimate gone. The only thing he's thinking about is Harry and his need to be _closer_.

“Louis, please, fuck me,” Harry gets out, after Louis has been teasing him with three fingers for so long that he looks close to coming.

When Louis finally pushes in, it's _everything_. He thought kissing Harry felt like a revelation, but it has nothing on this. It doesn't feel like anything he's ever experienced before. There's the feeling of familiarity, and the nonsensical sentence, _Oh, there you are_ , that he finds himself thinking inexplicably.

He pushes in, again and again, in a slow but forcible rhythm that makes Harry go crazy underneath him. He keeps it up until they are both panting and sweaty and only then he comes, bringing Harry off at the same time with a hand between them.

This, this is the crescendo of everything that has been building up between them over the past few months.  
Even if he's never gonna be Harry's real actual soulmate, he's his in every way that matters. He's never gonna feel this way about another person ever again, is never gonna choose anyone but Harry. He's gonna stay with him as long as Harry lets him. Nothing else matters.

 

 

 

 

**Six months later**

 

Louis' day has started off like any other one.

He woke up to his alarm, and the smell of breakfast. Most days he has to get up a bit later than Harry, who started attending a prestigious cooking school in London a few weeks ago.

The fact that Louis decided to spend the small fortune he saved up over the years on Harry's education was the source of their real first fight, but in the end, Harry agreed under the condition that he'd pay back every single cent as soon as he opened up his first restaurant or bakery. There's no doubt in Louis' mind that out of the two of them, Harry will end up as the more successful one. They will both end up crazily rich and then he will convince Harry to donate all the money he thinks he owes Louis to charity. It's a good plan.

 

Now, Harry has left, excited as ever about his day. Louis smiles to himself at his excitement.

Before Harry, he would have long been at the office by now and not left until late in the evening. Over the last few months, Harry has actually given him something to go home to though, and he's reluctantly learned that he did well in building his company, so well, in fact, that they survive without him working himself to the bone.

Yawning, he trots into the bathroom and looks at himself in the mirror. He thinks he's changed a bit, lately. He supposes happiness will do that to a person.

Absentmindedly, he combs through his hair, trying to fix his fringe into something presentable.

When he puts the comb down, he looks at one of the hairs it has caught, slightly baffled. It looks... grey. He holds it under the light so he can inspect it better, but compared to the other ones, it's definitely an entirely different colour.

Now, freaking out, Louis tries to inspect his reflection again.

He looks mainly at his hair, baffled. He _has_ gotten a trim lately, but he thought it was just because, for some reason, he wasn't happy with his old cut anymore, not because his hair had actually started growing again. But now, he thinks it might have started to look different in the last few months. Longer.

Louis tries to desperately gather his thoughts. A stray grey hair isn't unusual even for young people, but it's definitely unusual if you _don't age_. His hair doesn't grow, it doesn't change colour and it especially doesn't produce grey hairs.

Not knowing what else to do, he finishes getting ready and heads into work. He needs a second opinion.

  
“Well, someone looks proper chipper,” Perrie teases when Louis gets to work, probably looking slightly dazed, moving his fingers through his hair over and over again, as if another grey one is gonna come out if he just pulls on it often enough.  
“Ah, I can't tell you why, I don't wanna jinx it,” Louis says. “But, can I ask you, do you think my hair has changed lately? Before I got that new haircut?”

Perrie slowly starts to grin. “Yes, I do. I knew I wasn't imagining it getting longer.”

“So,” she leans over to him, her voice conspiratorially lowered. “How long has this been going on? And who have you kissed?”

“No one,” Louis immediately starts to defend himself. “Well, no one except for Harry of course.”

Perrie's grin gets possibly even wider. “Well, there is your answer.”

Louis hasn't dared to believe it before, but hearing Perrie state it so bluntly, is like she's lifting the fog of self-doubt and fear from his mind. There is no other possibility.

He hasn't kissed anyone over a year before he met Harry and since they've met, there's only ever been him. Nothing else could have made him start aging again. Nothing except for... Harry.

“Perrie, I'm taking the rest of the day off, cancel... everything!” he says, barely containing the nervous excitement in his voice. “I have somewhere I need to be.”

 

To say the romantic candle-light dinner Louis prepared for Harry is a surprise, is an understatement. Louis can't exactly blame him for his mostly shocked face, because Harry, out of the two of them, is definitely more likely to do something like this. Mostly because he can actually cook; after all, he's the one training to be a professional chef.

When Harry sees the fresh flowers Louis has also put on the table, his eyes go wide. “Did someone die? Is this your gentle way of telling me?”

“What? No,” Louis protests. “Can't I do something nice for my boyfriend?”

“Of course,” Harry says, still suspicious, but he sits down.

 

“Do you like it? I've made it from one of your recipes, the chicken one. I phoned Niall for help with the rest, actually,” Louis asks a few minutes later. Harry just blinks at him, apparently rendered speechless. Louis is getting nervous. He's never had a problem talking to Harry before, but he has no idea how to broach the subject of _hey, actually, we might be soulmates after all_.

“Did you see that Taylor and Dianna invited us to their wedding?” Louis rambles, hoping that it comes off casual and not like he's desperately fishing for small-talk subjects. “I've left the invitation on the table this morning.”

“Yes, I saw,” Harry says, still looking like he expects Louis to spring some terrible news on him any second. Then he's quiet again. Louis is going to go insane.

“Okay,” Harry explodes a few seconds later. “What is it, you're making me nervous!” he laughs, looking pointedly down at the table where Louis is nearly squeezing his hand to death.

Louis takes a deep breath. He supposes there's no point in delaying it any longer. He doesn't actually know what he's afraid of. Maybe some small part of him is still scared that Harry doesn't actually want to spend forever with him.

“I'm your soulmate,” he says softly.

Harry's mouth drops open. “What?” he asks.

“I found a grey hair today? And Perrie told me my hair has been getting longer, it doesn't grow that fast so I didn't notice and I haven't kissed anyone apart from you in years. So, I'm sorry I didn't notice before, but... I'm your soulmate.” Louis lets out a breath when he's finished with his little speech, relieved that he got it all out, even if it was one jumbled mess.

To his surprise, Harry starts... laughing.

Offended, Louis looks at him. “You don't believe me?” he asks, not managing to keep the tiny bit of hurt out of his voice.

That sobers Harry up immediately. “No, of course I believe you,” he says, the ghost of a smile still on his face. Louis is doing his best not to get distracted by his dimples.

“But, Louis. I _know_ ,” he grins. “I have known this whole time. I've known from our very first kiss. Maybe I already knew when I saw you for the first time.”

“You have not,” Louis exclaims, pulling his hand from Harry's hold to cross both of his arms in front of his chest. “I know you told me you did, but I knew that was just to convince me to get over myself and give us a chance.”

“I _really_ knew,” Harry laughs. “Remember when I used to ask you all of these ridiculous questions, about your favourite colour, and movies, stuff like that? I was trying to find things we had in common, to convince you we were soulmates.” He chuckles again, then pauses and gets serious. “But when we got together properly, you were so convinced you were gonna have to see me grow old and die, you couldn't _fathom_ the idea of deserving a soulmate. I thought I'd just let you figure it out on your own.”

“But,” Louis frowns a bit, “Would you still have made the same choice if you didn't believe I was your soulmate, like I did?” He knows Harry can hear the underlying fear and insecurity, something Louis has never quite managed to shake, can year the, _Would you still love me if you weren't obligated to by fate?_

“Of course,” Harry says softly. “I would choose you in every world, in every scenario imaginable. But you have to know, that it never crossed my mind. This, these feelings I have for you, have been so deeply intertwined with how I feel about you as my soulmate, there's never been a differentiation between the two in my head.” He has to see something on Louis' face, so he continues quickly. “I can tell you what I love about _you_ , as a person, though. If complicated, _real_ soulmate-feelings aren't enough for you.” Harry grins, probably to reassure Louis that he's not holding it against him, that he doesn't mind indulging him in this.

“I love that you support me in everything I do. I love that you listen to me, when I talk, actually listen, because you're interested in what I have to say, not because you feel obligated to. I love how well we work as partners, during every step we've taken in life together so far. I'm so sure that we'll do it just as well in the future,” he reaches for Louis' hand again at that, a small private smile on his face, the same one he's always wearing when they talk about their future.

“I love the person you've grown into over the years I didn't know you. I love how you took the pain you've experienced in the past, and came out stronger of it, a better person. I love so many small things that I can't name all of them, or we'd still be here tomorrow,” he chuckles.

“And,” now he's leaning over the table, pressing his lips to Louis' once. “I love how perfect you are for me. Because you're my _soulmate_.”

“I am,” Louis repeats, quietly, looking into Harry's eyes, voice still full of awe and wonder. “I love you,” he adds.

This is his _soulmate_. It's not the first time he's told him, not even the second or the third, but it feels significant, important somehow, to say it right now.

“I love you, too,” Harry answers softly, with just as much feeling and conviction in his voice as always.

And really, what is Louis supposed to do with that, other than kiss him. During the kiss, he can't help but scold himself a bit, for thinking that anything could ever come close, that anyone could be a better soulmate for him than _Harry_.

He's known that he found his missing piece a long time ago. Now, he just knows that fate has known it all along as well.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Title taken from "Something Great" by One Direction (obviously).  
> You can leave comments or kudos here, or reblog the [fic post](http://lookslikefairytale.tumblr.com/post/179268546140/fic-title-well-be-together-even-when-youre), if you liked it!
> 
> (I'm here on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/fairytalelights) and on [Tumblr](https://lookslikefairytale.tumblr.com), if you wanna say hi.)


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